Souls that Break
by sherline.v
Summary: Living in the world opressed by the regime, Eren, Mikasa,Armin and the gang have the guts to fight for their dreams together with their philosophy teacher Levi Ackerman. He has to guide them, but they have plenty reason to think that their strict professor is more than meets the eye. Old love, meant to be, poetry, freedom. PetraxLevixOc Highschool Au!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: this is an attack on titan highschool au regarding both main and side characters. It's set most likely in the late 20th century, including a quite harsh political regime.**

Prologue

~10 years earlier~

"I'm only 18,

I love, I'm broke and crazy

No one stands in my way,

I have my own long one-way road

It will take me somewhereeeee….."

"Cut the crap out, sappy idealist, you'll never make it as a poet haha." Sigh. There goes the whole mood. Today, you can't even feel alive without someone complaining that you're not sitting in your spot, minding your own business. I put the guitar beside me and drop against the cold sand, I light a Marlboro in my mouth, I feel the heat of the sky upon me even though its night and chilly, mid-September and everybody left. Everybody except me. And him. And her.

"How about you stop talking like those boys who pretend to read Tolstoy, Farlan?" I look at the night sky and I remember the voice of some poorly-paid scientist saying how much bigger and overwhelming the whole cosmos-crap is. Year-light. Milky Way. Ten thousand times bigger than our planet. Every time I ask someone smart about the Universe, all I get are numbers, reactions, compositions. Bullshit. In truth, universe is just another actor, another faker, who likes to pretend it's big, but in reality it's not. I know it, because now, as the leather bites my skin, my fingers are frozen and I feel his gaze down at me, all the stars, colorful gases and infinite black holes can fit in my soul and I can feel them growing inside, running in my guts, killing me softly, clashing against the walls of my heart. A frail spirit with a hurricane inside that no one is gonna understand.

"What are we gonna do about the army, Levi?" this pragmatism in his voice is what is gonna kill me, tho.

"I'm not going."

"What do you mean? Are you crazy?" I turn on one side, there he is. 2 inches away from me, but the whole world between us. I like to smirk at him and open my mouth slightly, then stretch and arch my back. When I do that, he says I spoil myself, but the truth is, I do it because I know. I know that at this age I can't be vulgar, I can't be gross. Because right now, I have the day of tomorrow by my side, I'm however old I want to be, I'm whatever I wanna be. In two years or so, I will only be able to be myself.

"I'm not like you, Farlan. I'm free and I'm not gonna bow."

"The head that is bowed, the sword doesn't cut…"

"But with shame it will bend the chain on its back. " I spit back and take another drag

"Can you please not act for once like you're the holder of the world's essence? You're so full of yourself…why? Because you read some books, play guitar and think you're gonna throw the society over? Please, just make sure the Military Police doesn't throw you in a cell and tear you apart." You see? Like I said, no one, however close he may be, is gonna understand your inner tornado. They are always gonna come with stupid reasons why you're a mess. Ideals, parents, bad education, hormones. It's not their fault.

"You're not free Levi, not at all" in the distance, I hear the sweet voice of my favorite girl calling us to drink a beer and sing till our throats hurt. She's sweet like a caramel apple and she looks like one. Isabel is one of the reasons I won't throw the world on fire.

"Well, my children will be…" I look at my guitar and the trace it left on the ground. The chords look like they're glowing and the wood looks like it's breathing. "We lost. We were happy that we discovered Coke and let the Titans take over. What are they gonna do?"

"Don't you get tired of always chewing on your own smart shit?" I raise an eyebrow, but I can tell by the way he is smiling and running his fingers through his hair, that a part of his own hurricane is tying hands with mine. I start coughing, and I loved it, because somehow it meant that my soul was too big for this body I throw left and right, through alcohol, nicotine and howls with lyrics.

"Can you please stop smoking those cigarettes? If only you didn't have a stupid reason for it…is it about that song you said you're gonna sing in 10 years? That the horse from Marlboro is going to wait you on your street…you're starting to run out of muses."

"Pf, as if. Stick to your drums, sweetie. It's a symbol."

"It's the horse from a banned American commercial that we sometimes catch when we steal the TV signal…no big deal. I saw it too. Pretty, liberating, but that's about it"

"Well, eyes can't get in the depth of things."

"haha, funny. Then mind explaining it to me?"

"Well…" I get up and close my eyes. "Some things you simply can't tell because there are no words in this world that fit the meaning in your eyes."

"Do you say that to every person that doesn't understand your endless struggling to search a meaning?" he winks at me.

"Do I smell a hint of me in your thoughts?"

"Please bite your tongue. You act like you invented hot water or something…" I laugh like a tease, more than I'm supposed to.

"Levi…" he asked and I turned around on my heels, walking backwards. "Please, don't turn into one of those strict, dull adults whose only joy is to mock others, the world will probably end in that moment" I stop my steps and I face him like you face your demons: no smart way out, no place to run. Simplicity in things like that are sometimes the key.

"These are things of the surface. Maybe they'll change me too, the Titans, or force me to. But then again, this is just like molding some metal to keep what's inside. The Tin-man with the Andromeda galaxy inside."

Farlan keeps walking straight while I roam circles after circles, like a spiral of not following. Are they going to take this from us too? This beach I run on, the footprints I leave the sand in my hair? This really special place. It's the closest place to the sky I've felt, so I have this bitter feeling it will soon find its end. I start to imagine what i would be like to be burried here,under the sand, an anonymus grave where people stop to make love. Really pretentious. Hoards and hoards of others are far away, maybe in Shingashina, Trost or the rest. Because here it's the end of the world, made for me and Farlan and Isabel and…

The moon shines and a drunkard collects rocks from the sand, with shame and betrayal. Behind him there's a nasty looking cart. A young girl sits on it, her feet dangling over the edge. She's all dressed in old fashioned clothes, her hair is a mess, her arms are long and her feet are clean like the sea. Pretty eyes with too much black. She looks like a doll that started a rebellion when it was still not in fashion, and now she's all poetry in rags. What a view. She braided seashells in her hair and she's reading Milan Kundera in French. Black market business. Not allowed here. I feel like I'm melting more and more as I lean against her cart. She's holding a cigarette between her lips. Marlboro. A meant-to-be, perhaps, creature, in whose hands I place my utter admiration.

"What is this place called?" my voice was raspy, and standing next to her, with leather jacket and a guitar behind me, I looked like I'm the demon myself, next to a diaphanous creature.

"It doesn't have a name. It's just…here. Here."

I don't believe in love at first sight. And neither should you. That's only falling. And even with all this and the rest of the cynical explanation that we're nothing but atoms; it doesn't mean it's not real, alive and elevating. It would be frightening to believe that in this cosmos full of laws and harmony, only our lives happen at random, only our destinies have no meaning.

"Levi, I'm going to leave you here forever if you don't come right now" someone yells in the distance. Yes please. Let me be. Fragile soul, ready to take if not given, gripping on the dreams with my teeth. I'm never going to forget this complicated language so few of us still speak: youth, the beautiful craziness of time's boulevard. . So I'll raise steps for my dreams to reach high and mock down everything that's not a dream and I'm going to gladly pay for it.

"You should go…" the head of this pretty creature leans to the side.

"What's your name, at least" I whisper, and the silence is so heavy, it's swallowing my pride, her thick hair strands, my guitar, her book, until there is nothing but her eyes. I see stars in her eyelashes. Her pupils look at me and mock me and I love it, because they act impertinent and they dare me to come again next summer, when I will return a man.

The cart starts to move and together with it this thing that is both child, girl, and woman. Her foot is out of the cart and her toes are drawing spirals in the sand. What a picture.

Although her mouth is not moving, I can hear her toes spelling "if we're meant to, if there's something, if there are ties that bind us, we will see each other again .H-E-R-E." And gone she was. A princess of meaninful memories. I sigh. Sometimes, i run out of nice epithets too.

Paradise Island. An underestimated country, which, in order to be put in its place, is controlled by the party known as "The Titans". Problems bigger than love such as heat, food, money are in the minds of the inhabitants, and that is because the titans know only to steal, corrupt, never to teach, never to know. It's worse than Orwell's 1984, which is banned, anyway. Here, everybody is saying "I want to live better", "I want to live healthier", "I want to live like a star". No one is saying "I want to live, I want to stand and face danger head on, I want to fight and fly and spit out my color dreams to this grey world". But as they say, you don't need the schools from the West and the money from the East to learn to live. No excuses this time. And no regrets. Even if I'm the only one against this world, I'd rather break my bones against your shitty rules. And so I thought, until…

 **A/N: hope you like it. More to come. Leave a review please, or suggestions! Also note this is only the prologue, the main characters together with their struggles will show in the next chapter. Sorry for the crappy grammar, I try to improve as much as i can**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: The next chapter, focusing on our main characters! Please** _review_ **if you like or don't like, it would mean very much to me! I'm always open for improvement if you point it out!**

 _Mikasa_

Bustling. Rushing. Mumbles. Problems everywhere. All over the house, Mikasa could hear the buzz of the morning through the endless bickering of her parents. Sometimes she wondered how they managed to fit so many formal questions and fake concern in that one-story house: "where are my keys?", "come down to eat", "go wake the children", "I have to work until late today". She squinted her eyes in small disgust, looking to her side where Eren's form was still covered in the blankets in the bed near hers. Her eyes lingered on the white sheets longer than they should. The windows were wide open and coldness was getting inside, but she didn't seem to mind, because she was trying to chase it away: the calming smell of the sleep from his bed, from his shirt she was wearing, from everything. If you asked any of Eren's friends to tell you how he smelled, Mikasa knew for certain what they would answer: mint, spice, salt, and some other basic smells boys were supposed to smell of. She sighed, she took in the air. In that moment, she didn't feel that unimportant to him, because she knew it all: how he smelled in the morning, before there was time to apply perfume, to say 'Good morning", to start fighting. Before mint, spice, and everything nice, his smell clung to her skin heavy, drowning, ten times stronger than gravity. He smelled like sleep, skin and secrets, and none of the friends, girlfriends and other acquaintances knew that. She was sure of it. For that, she felt proud and some unexplainable joy was created inside her nerves, because he had no choice but to let her steal something vulnerable and intimate. And although Mikasa wasn't sure how secrets were supposed to smell like, she imagined it must be what she inhales when she wakes up at night to find his green eyes staring into hers. No words spoken, no gestures made. Only them, like they were trapped in some primordial silence.

"Mikasa, wake Eren up and go to school, you're going to be late. You don't want that in the first day of school, do you?" A quick spasm of her hand was what had saved her from probably the third world war, led by her mother. She threw open the door to their room in a hurry, and although she was pretending all the time to have good intensions, Mikasa knew her rebellion against the maternal figure of the house was not unjustified. She wanted to catch them. But no luck this time either. Because Mikasa was younger, smarter, quicker and had more guts than anyone. Almost anyone, she thought as her calf was brushing against the foot of Eren's bed.

"Are you hiding something, young lady?" Ugh, there it comes, the interrogatory. By now, Mika was more than certain about the order of the questions. First, she was going to ask about school, even though both children told her the same things about a hundred times.

"When do you finish today?" Then, about the dark circles under her eyes.

"You don't look well rested, did you slept well last night?" Next it's about Eren. Or her. Or her and Eren.

"Did Eren keep you up all night? I thought I heard some noises…"

"Mother, stop it. I was helping Eren with some lessons in literature." Not that he needed them; really "I know it is important for everyone that he does well at those finals at the end of the high school"

"Mikasa..." her mother kindly smiled, she was leaning against the door frame. " You know very well I can tell when you're lying through your teeth" ugh-oh. Busted.

"Get out" Mika sighed and got up to slam the door. Was it her business anyway?

" Sweetie, please…"

"I don't want to hear it" said Mikasa

"Then stop feeding me your bullshit all the time!" Karla's screams hit her in the face like thousands of sand bits from a beach storm, concluded with the slamming of the door, there you had it. The mix of the perfect morning. Mikasa walked to her bed, her feet slow, pale, with pretty veins around them. She intentionally walked with strange, clumsy steps, putting her weight from one foot to the other. She felt strange, but because Eren told her once she looked like a doll everytime she wasn't stepping straight and fierce, she liked to feel clumsy, without precision and careless behind closed doors. She looked at her palm, which was holding a half-smoked cigarette. She brought it closer to her face, examining it , turning it on one side, then on the other. The smoke was rising up, no purpose, no target, only to be washed away by the wind from the outside, grey and full of meaning. Nowdays, dozens of pages from any biology book she had to study talked about the dangers of smoking, cancer, traheoctomy, how it's only a bad habit that is going to ruin the youth of the new generation, making them unable to work, concentrate, fulfill their purpose. Their purpose. Not hers. Or Eren's. There it was, this white stick with an orange tip, her's and Eren's little manifestation against the world. Their own tie to one another that they won't bend or fit, their own secret hidden from the eyes of those who say that they're only reckless and without conscience. She let out a little chuckle and threw the whole package inside her schoolbag. Marlboro.

She turned to Eren's bed, her long fingers grabbing the white sheets and throwing them to the floor. Underneath, a great pile of shirts, jeans, pillows and socks made it look like his form. She had done it the night before, after she waited until 2 AM for him to call her on a public phone. When she made up with the idea that he won't call, as he usually does, she turned into the sculptor of their own tiny toxic world, so that when his mother will knock on their door this morning, she will have it covered while he was _out there_. Right now, she hated how this big pile turned out, how badly it resembled him. Eren was everything not in the way he scrapped his jeans, ruined his socks or did his own T-shirts with discreet poetry lyrics, but in the way all seemed to fit him like a mirror and her like an armor.

She headed to the door and she threw one more menancing look at the Eren-pile. She resisted the urge to throw in it and surround herself in a closed bronze bubble, because she knew that later that day he would clash right there, tired, spent, no words, like he had been on a journey to search for his soul over the 7 seas. If only he weren't doing exactly that.

 _He will come back. He always does._ While this may seem like cheap self-pity, the messed up sheets, her lighter, the small mirror and their collection of forbidden books under her bed knew she was right all along. _He's a dumbass anyway. Not my fault he chose to stay in that far away place until now._ She tried to man up and make excuses for her own self, but everytime she tried that, a small corner of her mind scorned her that they weren't fitting just because she didn't listen to him as much as she should. Or maybe she just wasn't reckless enough to walk the line by his side. She was smart, unpredictable and strong, but there was this little bugger: the problem was that she could hardly breathe, and it wasn't from all the cigarttes she smoked.

 _Eren_

„GET OUT OF MY WAAY!" on the train station in the far away place that connected here to the other dreamless, censored places, they were running and running. Quick, aggitated steps were trying to make their way out from the mess they did with their own hands. Two pairs of legs seemed like they were winning the world marathon cup, when in reality, the problem at stake was much more important than that: highschool was starting and they had still a two hour ride with a train that was always trying not to leave.

„Armin, move your ass or we are both more than screwed!" of course, you could imagine who it was about. Two casant souls. The pair of legs clad in heavy, black leather boots turned around and a hand full of sand and smelling like vodka grabbed another hand, paler and more gracile. So they started to run again, and even tho the situation was less than likeable, Eren had a grin on his face enough to light up his whole home town. As his backpack was hitting against his back with full force, his feet were faster than the wheels that started to move, and he whished for nothing more than to be stuck in a time loophole, the kind Armin had told him about the night before: always chasing, his lungs burning, a shell in his pocket, fire in his eyes and a hand to hold onto. He wanted to be able to run forever, towards what was supposed to happen, towards his dreams and ideals, over fields and railways, highways and oceans. 4 more seconds and the train would be gone from the station, so he was dealing with a less-than-likeable situation

„Eren this is all your fault!" the high-pitched voice of his best friend rang in his ears.

4.

One last chance to catch it. He had to somehow jump more than all his muscles could manage from the platform straight through the door of the train.

3.

Chances to make it: less than 0. he imagined himself clashing on the concrete floor, Armin tearing up, his cute little head read with anger. Another chance to dissapoint everyone: his parents, his friends, the system, his fucked-up school, Mik-

2.

Not. This. Time. Not her. Not now. Never. He gritted his teeth and now the door was so close to him, he had to make it. This one-way ticket back to his home, to grab her hand and change the world together.

1.

The wind was everywhere: in his ears, nose, veins, behind him, in the train station. Everything was moving, and he realised for once, that it was not against him. He wanted to laugh at the whole situation. How come he, who pulled every muscle while trying to go against the stream, was suddently helped by it? He held Armin's hand way too tight and did it. The jump. His feet left the ugly platform, and he felt the strings bringing him closer. To them. To her. _The ties that bind us._ He remembered some fancy words he read a long time ago in some poem.

0.

 **And love, like a window, you throw yourself from.**

They made it. When he opened his eyes, the sky above him was running from him, back here, he was panting like a hunted animal and his legs had given up under him. They had not catched him yet. On his side, Armin looked like he's about to puke.

„We are never doing this again, Eren." He mumbled.

„Shut up, coconut, you loved it." He managed to get up and clash his forehead against his best friend's. Thousands of thoughts roaming, one above the others: ‚ I'm not dissapointing you this time, Puppe.' When the spirits calmed down, Armin was sitting on the connecting wood platform outside of the train, a book in his hand. Eren gave him a small smile, then kneeled beside him.

„Armin, name one person here that learned a lot and ended up well..." he said in a bickering tone

„You don't have any right to say a word after this mess. I won't go anywhere with you again as long as I live!" he bit back.

„ Yes you will..." Eren said with warm, melting eyes and leaned down to rest his head on Armin's lap, fading away in a sweet much-needed sleep. He loved it. Everything. And nothing would stop him this time.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: there it is, the next chapter told from Levi's POV. I hope you enjoy my story and reviews really make me happy. I'm glad you're reading this fanfic and I hope you like it! 3**

 **Italics represent memories.**

" _I don't want you to stay here any longer." She said looking outside the window at the waves crashing onto the sand. The sky was grey, the spirit long gone and the whole place looked like a broken heart closed for renovations: glass shards all over, empty alcohol bottles and other's trash that has started to smell._

" _So that's what you want" and there is an endless pause before I manage to say the next words. "You don't want us to be together anymore." I sighed. I hated it. I hated everything. Every little piece of her. I hated how she never cut her hair, how her nose arched up, how she always had sand under her nails and how she wore weeds in her hair. I hated the mug she was holding, how the handle was broken, how I knew that it had 3 coffee rings on the inside and 3 lipstick stains on the outside._

" _Yes. And if you love me you'll do as I say." I hated that she's right. I hated that she always won the fight, that I let her win. I hated that even though I had the last world, her sheer eyes looking into mine were worse than a judge's hammer. Until then, every moment spent here had its own melody. Like a faint buzz in every rustle, wave or touch that made me sure I was on the right way: a yell in the distance, an old song upstairs, her feet following mine in the morning on the cold floor, the sound of a shell cutting my palm, the cheers of the beer bottles every night. And now…_

 _Now everything was silent. The clock on the wall was not working anymore, since I had forgotten to turn it, so it looked like time was no longer flowing, that we were stuck on our chairs, suspended in a fight. Except this time, there were no longer us against the world, but us against each other. And in the end, I had to accept the idea that everything was nothing more than the natural order of things: I had to lose her in order not to lose myself._

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Again, this fucking dream. I open my eyes and see that it's time to get up, as usual. My curtains are pulled apart even though I always close them before I go to bed. I feel my whole body heavy, my back is hurting and those grey sheets are too cold. I look on the empty space beside me, where the sheets are ruffled up and the pillow on the side, the person who warmed them long gone, as per usual. Scratch that. This tiny house is cold like a fridge, even though Petra always turns the heat up whenever she comes over. I want to close my eyes and never get up again, I want to curl up, turn into a fetus, then an embryo, disintegrate myself, cell by cell, until I slip from this existence and become an atom. Just me, my nucleus and my electrons flying around me, not a care in the world anymore.

"Levi, I have to go."

Apparently, that has to wait. Petra leans in the doorway, and she is dressed up and with make-up on, as per usual. Cotton dress, nylon tights and brown eye pencil. Same as usual. Everything is the same with her, as it should be. Outside the apartment, I can hear the morning screams that marks another day in this shithole I'm living in: common arguments, money spent on booze, cheating husbands, the rest. Or maybe a drunken good-for-nothing unemployed man fell on the tulips that some lady carefully planted.

So no chance for me returning back to sleep. I look at Petra once more; she has her shoes in her hand that I once said I liked out of politeness. As she looks at me with a sad smile, I realize that she's needed. Even though I want to deny it every time. Even though she assures me everything is fine and that she wants something different. I know for sure she is somehow the much needed constant, like the flower you put in a glass cage in order to keep it to yourself forever. If one day she would say something out of place, not wear heels or not take pity of me anymore, the whole order of the world would fall apart around her, people would not get up in the morning, the earth wouldn't spin and everything would burn down. I feel the weight of everything that's right, rigorous and fair pressing on her small shoulders. She's waiting, I can see. She's waiting for me to say something, anything remotely lukewarm to her.

"Go then, you're not supposed to take care of me. See you in school" And so my words fall like a rock from the fifth floor. Unfortunately, I can't love her, not the way she wants me to. So I get up and slid past her, and I can see in the corner of my eyes that she's clutching her hands around her chest, her eyes are down and her hair framing her face. She turns around and wants to leave, but she's not sure if she did something wrong again, if she's not enough or if we are simply puzzle pieces from different corners. Either way, she lingers like the sun in April, so in conclusion I'm the bad guy again, the asshole. What can you do?

I go to the bathroom and I turn on the faucet, but what greets me sounds more like a gurgle of some sea monster: Titans cut our water again, to save money, help the country's economy, etc, so, I guess they're not used to washing their mouths after all the shit they eat in the government every day. I sigh and have to manage to go on.

After I make myself look a little presentable, I check my watch and realize that I have to be in school in half an hour. My first day as a homeroom teacher and the students are already bringing me bad luck. I slide into the kitchen chair, where everything is at the right spot, devoid of color, mostly in tones of sickly grey, moldy brown or plain crème. Only on the table, I can see a mug, so she must have drunk some coffee before she woke me up. She's on the chair at the other end of the table and her mug is between us. I take it in my hands and notice two lipstick stains on the rim. I let out a sneer. Nice, but not enough. There's a heavy silence, and I feel bad for the weight of it that must be pressing on Petra's heart. Her poor heart that must be the size of her fist. And her hand is so much tinier than mine, I'm left perplexed. She puts her arm on the table, her long fingers searching mine, and I let them find mine, my index tracing the contour of her trimmed nails, her ring and the peachy fuzz on them. I drink the coffee I long for and it tastes amazing, very strong and with a nice aroma. She's good at one thing, I give her that.

"Why do you always hold your cup so funny?" her voice rings through the air, like some basic cliché harp chord. I look down at my hand which is holding the coffee cup from the rim, instead of from the handle, very useless and unusual, some might say.

" _Levi" her voice was barely above a whisper but it seemed like a wave that crashed against our four walls and went back to hit me tenfold,, and she was sitting right in front of me, so all their struggle was quite useless. She looked like a child who suddenly discovered all the wrongs in the world and I looked into her pale blue eyes and wanted to keep her to myself forever. Even with her sweet pout, big dark circles and eye gunk. Even if she smelled like a sailor from my cheap cigarettes. She looked to the side and I see some eyeliner from the day before and a scratch near her shoulder blade where she had cut her skin with a seashell. Women just didn't get it. A beautiful woman stays a beautiful woman. A beautiful woman with dark circles is not ugly, it's just…a beautiful woman with dark circles. However, things turn a little difficult when you're both woman, girl and spirit. I saw her wolf ring on her middle finger and I hoped that she would punch me in the face with it one day so that I would wake up and go further than this end of the world._

" _I broke my cup Levi. I'm sorry" I saw it in the corner of my eyes. Her cup, rolling on the floor, the handle broken. I thought it's kind of funny, because she looked like she just saw one of the greatest Greek tragedies and witnessed the fall of a thousand kings. But that's just her. I had a cup of my own, same as her, that we had bought on the beach when we first started talking. I still remembered how she held her breath when…_

 _Well, that's a story for some other time._

" _Well, what can you do about it…?" I raised an eyebrow and took my own cup, full of cigarette butts. It was made from cheap china and it had half a wing, mine was black and hers was white. I decided that I had to ruin my cup too, in order to fit the chaos in front of me. And if I messed up and ended up turning everything into shards, I still would have to try it. I understood that some things must be done quietly, with no questions, with no reason. For her. For the single white strand in her hair and her small ankle that bumped into mine. For her sweet pout and this end of the world. She was worth it. All the shards and all the battles._

 _I raised my hand and smashed the handle against the edge of the kitchen table. It broke loudly, with a clink, but she did not move at all. Almost like she was waiting for it. So weird. Now I had to grab my cup from the rim, like some awkward retarder aristocrat._

" _Happy? Now they're both broken" I said in a tired tone and placed both our cups near each other. She lowered her head on her forearms to observe them better and smiled, and I saw her cute little crooked canine peaking in the corner of her mouth._

" _aww" she half gasped. "It's a match! Now they can fit and be broken together forever"._

" _Except we will have to drink like creeps from now on because you couldn't keep still for a second" I scolded her, but I saw in her eyes that she didn't care at all._

" _I don't mind it being broken, as long as it's with you." I closed my eyes and threw my head back. I loved it there so much. And I knew it, that she must be some kind of witch, or maybe something like Nietzsche's demons, that wars were ahead of me and words and poems and knowledge were waiting to be discovered._

" _Me neither." But for everything there, I would gladly post-pone a battle or two._

"No reason at all, it's just habit, believe me." I want to gulp down the whole thing, but I see her standing in front of me and a lump stands in my throat. I get up, slowly, without a real whish to do anything, and place the cup in the sink. I feel bad about it all, about her perfect hair, about her hand into mine and about the world on her shoulders.

"I'll give you a ride to school, come on." It make me depressed how I see her whole face light up from a few simple words that she tries to find meaning to. Don't they give Nobel prizes for being a selfish bastard?

So now we're on our way to school, on this shitty road full of shit and shitty holes. I'm driving the car the government wants me to drive, nothing special. Maybe that's why I think about clashing into a tree with it from time to time, no big deal after all. If you look anywhere inside my house, you will see everything is more than in order. The chairs are more than in order, the glasses are more than in order, hell, even Petra is more than in order…so why am I not able to lo-

"I love this song, Levi!" she smiles discreetly and turns up the radio, a song from a random artist beyond our Island is playing.

My car on the other hand, is a complete mess, it smells unpleasant and it's very unkempt, because it's not something wanted, it's something given. By them. My small quiet objection against the Titans is not cherishing what they give me, mostly because they tell me exactly to do it so. It's hard to be a rebel when you're thirty.

Occasionally, I steal a glance to Petra when she's not looking. She's facing away from me, looking at the grey blocks on the side window, lost in thought. I know what she's thinking, most likely something about her dream of writing a book, escaping this town and running away. The saddest part is, she's not dumb at all. She has a literature major, so there must be a feeling there, when she's not teaching idiotic kids about what Herodotus wanted to say in Odyssey. She's brave, modern and quite pretty, so why…

Why am I so cruel to her?

Why can't I love her the way she wants me to?

Why don't we fit at all?

And I still know all the answers. It's because she's always with a foot in and one out, always ready to go if things get to messy, wanting it all but not going to commit. See, there is our problem. Love, life and anything special really is about fighting in the mess, about feeling it in your guts. It's a pain that you gladly accept and she still doesn't want to accept it. But, maybe one day, she will finally manage to climb the big wall I have built around myself and jump inside my heart. The wall is very solid and very high, so I would protect myself, so I won't lose the battle again. After all, the higher you built a wall around yourself; the better will be the one that will be able to climb it. And she will grow strong; I hope so, for both our sakes.

We are finally reaching the school parking lot and she's packing her things. I keep my mouth tied and park somewhere random, beside other emerald-mixed-with-vomit green cars around. When I turn off the engine, I sigh and I look at her. She has already resigned herself, but still smiling.

"See you tonight? You can come to my place…" I give her a faint nod and she opens the door, rushing to the teacher's room without any other words. How predictable. I light a cigarette and I take a long drag from it. First period is homeroom, which means the real fight begins and I want to look as decent as possible in the battlefield. Please, remind me again why I am a teacher…

The bell is ringing and everyone around me is trying to get to the class as quickly as possible. Not me. I see boys and girls rushing inside their classrooms and I'm nervous. I have a tough, shitty-paid job, because it's not about telling them to write this and that on a paper so that they will get good grades. It's about stomping in their messy minds and leaving a foot print that alters their way of thinking into something good. I have to show them beauty, truth and self-discovery, and God I wish it was easier.

The class I'm about to teach in is at the end of the hall, so that means walking past old walls, rusty lockers and peeled wallpapers. A portrait of someone, I think the founding titan or someone else as stupid, stands in the top corner of the hall, surrounded by mold. And as much as I want to spit on it, I'm not in the mood for another scolding from Erwin. Besides, it's not my fight anymore.

I take a deep breath and I grasp the door handle, thinking it's now or never. I hate it when I'm nervous, but there are perks in always having the same facial expression. I take the first few steps into the classroom, and I can feel around 20 pairs of eyes watching my every move. They're not making a sound and no one is moving. Good. That means they're paying attention for once in their lives. I bet each one will have gossip topics about me in the lunch break. Whatever.

"Good morning class. My name is Levi Ackerman and I'm your new homeroom and philosophy teacher, and this year, I'm gonna be your worst nightmare." I hope that settles it. The truth is, I enjoy being mean only too little, but I'm not going to be an open book softie to them. If they don't deserve it, at least.

I study their faces and I must admit I'm pretty impressed. Some are bored, some look like they want to kill me and some of them are too scared to move. In the left corner, a girl continues to eat potato chips. She's sitting next to a boy who has two different hair colors and has his arms crossed. Further back one tall boy struggles to keep a smile on while a bald guy will soon eat a fly from keeping his mouth open this long. In the front row, I see what I perceive is the alpha trio of the class. A girl with short black hair, who is not buying my shit, and I already see a pack of Marlboro peeking out of her school jacket. There is also a blonde boy who wants to look decent, but is panting like he went through hell and back to get here. All about the first impressions, I see. And in the middle, two green eyes are starring at me. He and the blonde guy are the only kids not wearing a uniform and instead, under their desks lay two large backpacks that still have sand all over them. I try to swallow my smile as I realize I'm dealing with sweet vandals. The boy in the middle cocks his head to the side and smirks at me.

I'm delighted; I see exactly what I was hoping for. Their eyes tell me everything I need to know: that they're brave, ready to do great things, willing to take if not given. They are naughty and arrogant. They're so young, they have a chance for saving themselves and they are not going to throw it away. So I'm going to teach them how. In order for them to love me, I must speak their language .But their language is something that you learn fast and forget even faster. We all spoke it once. Few of us still know it. They are still naïve and for them my knowledge is beaten by their courage. I look with envy at the blood running through their veins and how they look like a pack of young wolves sick of this world that is already so full.. They are noisy, crazy and always rushing and they remind me that they are the only thing pushing this world forward. Uncertain and vengeful, radical and never forgiving, easy to hurt and to manipulate. They look like children of life and sworn enemies of death and they are ready to follow their dreams until they drop dead. Time is on their side. They are…casant souls. The pretty wanderers of time's boulevards.

The boy in the middle has a book in his hand.

I can barely hide my shock.

Milan Kundera.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: sorry for the wait, I had terrible exams at college. Hope you like the story, if you have opinions of suggestions, write them in the comments! There is much room for improvement, but otherwise, I hope you enjoy this chapter~**

"Buckle up boys, because shit's about to hit the fan. And here I thought that this year I'll pass all my classes." In the boys' bathroom, a group of teens are skipping some class that's too boring for them. The place is filthy, the toilets smell horrible and there are dirty words on all the stalls, not to mention that the floor is covered in cigarette butts, seeing as the cleaning lady probably drank again and is sleeping somewhere.

"Jean-boo, the reason why you don't pass your classes isn't the teachers, it's because you're an idiot with a big mouth". Sitting on the radiator that is out of order since they got into high school, Eren puffs out some smoke. He smirks and licks his lips, tilting his head back and looking at the ceiling. One of his elbows is resting on his knee while the other leg is dangling on the floor. "Besides, I might like this new teacher, he's not dull like the others and some philosophy might be useful."

The whole room is thick from the smoke of everyone's cigarettes, Jean is leaning against the stall, Mikasa is perched up on the window sill, Connie is sitting in the sink while Armin is keeping watch, probably shitting himself.

"Well, that's just my opinion; I always say what I think!" Jean defends himself.

"Yeah, but do you think what you say?" Eren asks with a smug look.

"Why you little bitch…."

"Let me guess, you just bought another book you're not allowed to read" Connie rolls his eyes and spits on the ground.

"Not just any book Connie, Voltaire, if you can imagine." Eren lifts his index accordingly.

"Wow Eren, so unpredictable, as always" Jean says with sarcasm in his voice and crosses his arms.

"Whatever, like I care for the opinion of uncultu-"

"will you shut up already?!" a voice echoes on the walls, turning every head towards Armin's direction " Everyone knows why you read this stuff, it is because they are forbidden and you want to look like the almighty rebel when all you do is smoke, get into fights and flirt with everything that has two legs. You don't care about culture or knowledge at all." Armin's voice wakes everyone up from their dizzy state, and even Eren jumps a bit when he hears the malice in his voice. He sighs, jumps from his spot and walks with slow steps towards Armin. He wraps an arm around his middle and pulls him close, his big green eyes staring into Armin's baby blue ones. That's the look everyone knows, when he seems in such deep thought, batting his long eyelashes and biting his lower lip, you'd think any moment from now on he will tell the most amazing thing in the world, a creative and smart comment, what philosophers crave for years, but…

"You're just jealous because the sports teacher lets me skip the class and not you, Armie." …this is what everyone gets, usually. And as he's been taught for years, Armin believes in bowing his head as long as he does not get into trouble. So, as Eren takes back his previous seat, a mindless small talk begins. Because there is nothing else to be talked about: homework fights, and who sucks whose dick, usual high school chat. Mikasa stares at Eren absent-mindedly, noticing as he seems to instigate the discussion more and more: he moves too much, raises his voice and shakes his head only to hear the clinking of his earring: popular rebel clown type.

" _Mika, I'll love you forever. I'll be the kite and I'll let you pull my strings. And if this life will win the fight and we'll become slaves in a suit, I'll let you cut me and throw my bits to the titans. " his voice was subtle in her ear as they were embracing on a rooftop, their friends all around them, either passed out drunk or still singing, and the sun was just coming out and they were still up, full of life, and Mikasa was gazing at all the rooftops and her feet were ready to jump all over them. Bottles of alcohol were lying around, along with dirty rugs and a Cd-player. Connie had his zipper open while Sasha had whipped cream all over her face, Jean was in her lap while Armin tried to play the guitar... It seemed like it was the first time she saw the sun as gorgeous as that sunrise, so she started to yell in happiness, Eren was spinning her around, and in that moment the sun, the sky with a few stars left on it, the rooftops, the faint love of everyone, and the whole universe seemed like it could fit right in her heart without much trouble. Nothing was as big as her soul and in her heart 10 supernovas were exploding per second. Eren started to pull her into an up-beat dance, the others were laughing or playing some guitar strums, one last time to love before titans will show them how life bites…_

But that was long ago…Mikasa thinks looking down. She isn't 16 anymore. She jumps from the window still and grabs Eren by the ear in spite of everyone's laughs and Eren's protest.

"I thought the great, out of ordinary minds don't spoil their mouth with stupid gossips" and in an instant, Eren looks down and shuts up, a miracle for once. "Let's get going before someone catches us, it's Jean's turn to pull us out of the shit and I'm not in the mood for detention." She leaves the bathroom, Eren by her side as the rest follow suit just as the bell rings.

"Besides, I like the new teacher; it's something about his that says more than basic titan-schooled boring teacher." Mikasa says, linking her arm with Armin's.

"Yeah! He's actually a sadist!" Sasha jumps.

"Will you shut it, food-head? I bet he's something cool, like some small leader of the Scouts!" Armin says over excited, covering Sasha's voice. But as soon as the words leave his mouth, a hand slaps his neck rather hard.  
"You idiot! Stop saying that out loud! Or you want to spend the night in a titan jail like we did last year?! It's forbidden to talk about any titan resistance!"

"Still, there is something fishy about our homeroom teacher…" Eren pauses to analyse.

 _On the first period:_

" _Good morning class. My name is Levi Ackerman and I'm your new homeroom and philosophy teacher, and this year, I'm gonna be your worst nightmare." Everyone looked to each other perplexed, so much for formal introduction… Mikasa had heard however of young teachers like him trying to be brave, casual or just plain different, and in less then a month the principal put them to their place. Mr Smith was a real pain in the ass and had a way to make sure things were going his way, so Mikasa wasn't buying this nonchalant attitude. Fucking government minion._

 _Mr. Ackerman was walking through the desks as he was the center of attention, his hands clasped around his back, his hair so dark and eyes like a storm, Mikasa rested her head on her palm, muttering to herself how the girls would start having daddy issues again._

" _What's your name?" he asked facing a young boy._

" _Reiner Braun sir!"_

" _And yours?" he said turning to another one._

" _Krista Lenz, sir!"_

" _And your name please?"_

" _Sasha Blaus, sir!"_

" _Where did you learn Sasha?"_

" _At the 146_ _th_ _Central School before Trost High, sir"_

 _He turned around at this point, facing everyone in his gaze before continuing his stroll._

" _But do you know who I am?"_

" _Yes, you're Socrate!" Jean said rising up before the whole class started a quiet laugh._

" _Ah, yeah, that is how the kids call me" he made a lengthy pause" but do you know who Socrates was, the real one?"_

" _Yes!" said Connie rising up "A great Italian writer!" and the whole class erupted in a heartfelt loud laughing fit._

" _See? They don't seem to agree with you…"He looked down and continued._

" _Everyone, take out a piece of paper!" his deep voice echoed and in that moment, no one was even breathing "How about a pop quiz as an introduction gift?"_

" _At homeroom class?" A girl asked half surprised half annoyed._

 _He raised his eyebrow as pupils were pulling out notebook pages as slowly as possible trying to pass the time. "Write down your name, class and date. And yes dear, to whoever looked so perplexed, a test in homeroom teachings, how about that? Or does any of you think that a high school life should involve only questions in chemistry or algorithms?" and Mr. Ackerman didn't fail to notice the subtle smile of the alpha trio, especially Eren's, who turned around to capture his teacher's gaze with his own surprised one._

" _The theme of your paper: How would I want my homeroom teacher to be? You have 10 minutes before the bell rings" he muttered before going to the front desk, dropping in the chair and putting his feet on the table, bizarre indeed._

"Something fishy indeed…" Jean agrees with him for once.

After the first day of school was finally over, Eren is talking to Mikasa in the park near the school. Her hand is grasping his arm firmly, and they stay closer than it should be allowed, because he likes to take risks and she lets him. Because he is not bothered by what everyone thinks. But she does, and she lets him do as he pleases anyway. While his eyes are pleading, hers look like an incoming storm.

"I missed you more and more as the days were passing _there_ " he reaches for her scarf, and Mikasa almost lets him, until they are interrupted by some cute ditzy girl with long lashes.

"Hey Eren, I really wanted to talk to you…you know, about tonight?"She takes a quick glance at the other girl and asks without too much care "oh, am I interrupting something?" and Mikasa feels her blood boiling and the storm on the verge of starting, so she slaps his hand away from her. "Yes! YOU ARE INTERRUPTING! And you..." she throws daggers at Eren "you're still the man-whore you always were!" she turns around and she knows what's coming. Him chasing away the girl, grabbing her hand and spinning her around before they are close enough for him to drop his guard right before her eyes. And she will see him without his superiority, stripped from pride, he will tell her he is sorry, that she knows where his heart is and that he puts more affection in a handshake with Armin than anything with that girl . And she will believe him, because she can't stand to see him suffering and because she knows he'll take them both home and give her what she needs: his touch and his embrace, and an hour when she feels like she's cared for before going back to the same old story.

Not this time tho, she frowns and picks up the pace, throwing her backpack away and getting as far from them as possible. She takes turns, randomly, and ends up in the school corridors where she deliberately knocks a flower pot over. she hears steps of heavy boots behind her, and she wants to run away, endlessly, on fields and over rivers and to the other side of the world. And she would do just that, if not for her heart that was…

"what the hell Mikasa?! What was that all about?" his yells fall on deaf ears as her breathing accelerates. She does want to do this, and her heart goes on fire, and it's so against her being that…

"Auch! What the fuck?!" and the sound of her palm against his cheek persists for a few more minutes in her ears.

"you tell me what the fuck this is about! I'm tired of thinking you can get the easy way out with me! You never think of me more than a hiding place to go when people don't want you anymore!" and her screaming is truly horrible, like some hurt animal who doesn't find peace to lick its wounds.

"that girl doesn't mean a flying fuck, and you know that! Mika, does it bother you so much I'm not sticking my tongue down your throat when we are at school?"

"NO! Not this, again! Eren, I'm bothered by the fact you're the chief coward of the cowards, you preach every day like some illuminated savior about having the guts to fight this titan plague around us, to fight for freedom and never just swallow and let others decide for you, and yet this is exactly what you do because you're not brave enough to do what your heart tells you!"

"You know very well I do it for both of us and because I love you more than I care to be seen with a beautiful girl around!"

"But that's exactly the thing!" she punches him into his shoulder "you don't love me! Not even a bit! You only love that I'm always the badass girl, smart and tough but when I'm with you I follow you like a puppy and mold like plasticine over everything you want! You love the control. You only love that I'm yours and that no matter how bad you fuck up you know you have some dumb bitch you can rely on to save you. Because when you drop this misunderstood rebel façade, you know I am the only one who can accept you like you truly are, with cliché ideas and stupid dreams! You're never gonna win this fight against them, you blind prick! You'll only lose, and for starters, you lost me !" she turns around, her tears swallowing her face, her nose running, thinking she might drown any second.

"Puppe, don't be like that, come on…I'll…I'll take you home and buy you snacks and I'll do whatever you want, just…be my Puppe" Eren drops his shoulders, out of smart words, drained by this girl not from this grey world.

"No. and it's final. I'm not your Puppe. I'm a warrior, a lover, a thinker. I cry, I swear and I smoke too much. I keep my freedom close to my soul, I am vulnerable, I suffer and I love. I am more than a girl with a stone heart. I am brave dreamer. But you, you are shit Eren…" and with that she walks away, wanting with every fiber of her being for Eren to come after her and tell her something sweet like how their love isn't meant for the eyes of those normies.

Of course, he doesn't.

So she walks out in the school yard, half proud and half dying. There, she sees Annie Leonhart, smoking a Davidoff on the steps. She is in the same class with her, but mostly no one dares to knock on her ice cage she has around herself. Her blue eyes turn around to face her crying face, so Mikasa sighs and plops down next to the quiet girl. She's the daughter of a titan police officer, really dangerous and her father could probably beat you on political reasons if you look at her the wrong way. Not like she needs it, anyway.

Mikasa sits uncomfortably close to her, snatches the cigarette from her hand and takes a long drag. Her make up is probably smudged and she looks probably like she's been through some shit. Most important, she knows people like her should be kept at a distance, especially if you value your little freedom of speech that is left in this shitty country. But today she is pissing on the general opinion, and she will talk to this girl if she wants to. Especially now. Annie looks at her, and her blue eyes are cold, but very calm too, and they look like a resting spot Mikasa has been searching for. Because no one cares for the resting spot of the designated mother of the wounded, right? And as she looks around her, Mikasa sees less and less of the _green_ trees, _green_ grass and _green_ uniforms, and instead, there are all kind of forms like the _blue_ sky, the _blue_ veins on her arm, the _blue_ flowers and the _blue_ jeans, the blue water bottles… _blue_ ….like everything is blue. The warmest color in this afternoon.

"Annie, don't you think sadness is sadder than is happiness happy?" and she hopes she makes sense this time.

"you tell me…" and as they sit close, Mikasa doesn't mind being vulnerable again.


End file.
